The Great Hybrid
by jazzywazzy08
Summary: In 1925, after finally succeeding in breaking the hybrid curse Niklaus Mikaelson returns to New Orleans to reclaim his city and the woman he loves. But a lot has changed in five years including Bonnie Bennett. Undeterred Klaus retakes the city hoping the power will lure Bonnie back to him.


**Title: **The Great Hybrid

**Rating: **M

**Genre:** AU/Alternate History

**Pairing(s): **Bonnie/Klaus, Damon/Bonnie (minor), Rebekah/Marcel, Stefan/Katherine, Damon/Katherine, ect.

**Summary: **In 1925, after finally succeeding in breaking the hybrid curse Niklaus Mikaelson returns to New Orleans to reclaim his city and the woman he loves. But a lot has changed in five years including Bonnie Bennett. Undeterred Klaus retakes the city hoping the power will lure Bonnie back to him.

**Klonnie Appreciation Week Theme: **Myth and Historical (Day Five)

**Warnings:** Violence, Character Death, Sexual Content, OCC-ness, etc.

_**Author's Note: More Klonnie week stuff. I am having so much fun with this week. This fic is inspired by The Great Gatsby. I am not delusional enough to think that I could do it think I could do it justice and so it's more of nod to it than anything else. Anyway things you should know before reading, this is disregarding canon in a major way. Basically I am making it so that all the of the present day TVD characters are in the 1920s and never in the present day. If that doesn't make sense then it will as you read. I am making Marcel a distant relative of Bonnie's for the sake of this fic and all of the supernatural elements remain in place. Basically the only thing I am keeping form the original Gatsby plot is a man coming back to reclaim the love he lost and to prove he's something more. Also for the sake of this fic the Salvatore are not familiar with the Mikaelsons. Hopefully this goes over well. Ultimately this will be five parts. This took a while so no editing here. Any feedback would be great. As always thanks for reading!**_

**Part One || Past and Pending**

"_There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired." _

― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

_**New Orleans, Louisiana, 1925**_

The house was something of an extravagant monstrosity. The decorating was tasteful enough, and the coloring was nice if a bit dull. Everything done in creams, blacks, browns and off whites. The inside and the outside were impressive to behold. Large windows to let the light in. Hand crafted furnishings. Crystal lamp shades and chandeliers. Still it was dwarfish compared to the manor that had been built just across the way, that would house the Mikaelson family and Rebekah Mikaelson took some comfort in that.

"The city has been straggling," their host said as he led them through the house, "When my brother and I arrived it was a sorry place to behold. We have done the best we could to bring order back to it but there are far too many creatures of supernatural power for their not to be a power struggle."

Damon Salvatore was a charming man. Deceptively so, something about him rubbed Rebekah the wrong way and not just because he had something that belonged to her brother. However, he was not the one that she was there to see.

It had been five long years since she and her family been a presence in the quarter. Ordinarily five years would be nothing to one of their kind. Passing so fast in the overall scheme of things that it would seem like a blip in the eternity that they faced. It had been what they had left behind that had made the time seem to draw on and on.

Rebekah had recovered her losses rather easily. The man that she loved had waited for her. But to be fair, Marcel Gerard was used to the comings and goings. The appearances and absences. He had been loyal to them since her brother had turned him in the eighteen hundreds and he remained ever so. He understood their motives, their goals.

Goals that had now been accomplished. The father that had been ready to hunt them down and kill them was now dead. The curse that had had been placed on her brothers head locking up his werewolf side was now broken. Now they could afford to stay in one place, to take root. To expand. To recover what they had lost. They had already started and this was part of it. Damon Salvatore had taken something from them, from her brother. Even if he was no aware of it.

"The problem is," Damon continued as he adjusted jacket on his charcoal suit, "Everyone wants control but no one wants to be a leader. But I think that you will like it here just the same Miss Mikaelson. Even with its shortcomings the city has enough sin and mischief to keep one entertained."

He winked at her and raised an eyebrow at him. "You talk as if you speak from experience, Mr. Salvatore," she commented. She looped her arm through the arm of her companion's and Marcel gave her a look. She knew that he was all too familiar with the elder Salvatore's antics and that the two had come to blows over them more than once.

"I have a past the same as everyone else," he sighed, "But I've been trying to find some redemption as of late."

Rebekah rolled her eyes. Bonnie Bennett didn't need to be someone's redemption. She was worth more than that. While, Niklaus had loved the light in Bonnie he had never expected her to fix him. Had never wanted to gain his redemption through her. Instead they complemented one another, made up for what the other lacked. They were two sides of one coin. Yin and yang. Since they had left Bonnie her brother had not been whole and Marcel attested to the fact that though Bonnie put on a good show and hid her feelings behind a false smile, the little witch was just as broken. As proof Marcel had told Rebekah that the witch hadn't been singing, not sense they left.

For Bonnie singing was not just a hobby. It was a piece of her. An intricate part of who she was. It was how she expressed herself outside of the label of being a witch. It was something that she loved. Her dream. The fact that she had stopped broke Rebekah's heart.

Bonnie hadn't just belonged to Nik, she had been something to all of them. Been a fixture in all of their lives. So much so that Rebekah had called her, her best friend. And that was what they had told Salvatore. That Rebekah was an old flame of Marcel's and an old friend of Bonnie's, passing through town and just popping in for a visit. He would have never welcomed them in so easily had he known the whole truth.

They stopped in front of a set of large double doors. "Here we are," Damon grinned, "She's always in here. Rarely leaves. Maybe you can talk her out of here blondie." Rebekah winced at the term but said nothing. "In the meantime," he continued, "Marcel and I are going to go out for a drink. Leave you two dames alone to catch up."

Rebekah nodded, forcing herself to offer him a smile. Her smile turned genuine as Marcel leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. "Good luck," he intoned as he pulled back, his voice barely a whisper.

She was surprised as she watched them walk away. It seemed easy to get Bonnie alone. But Marcel had told her things weren't like when before. While Klaus had kept Bonnie constantly in his company or in the company of those he kept in his inner circle outside of her grandmother and Marcel, it seemed that nowadays, Bonnie was often left alone to her own devices.

Rebekah frowned as she turned from their retreating forms in favor of the double doors. She knew Bonnie didn't do well with solitude. It was a quality that both she and Nik possessed. One of the reasons that they had fit so well together. Bonnie hadn't minded her brother's clinginess. She had welcomed it in fact. Which was why it had affected her so deeply once it was taken away.

Rebekah gripped one of the door knobs and slowly pulled the doors open. As she walked inside she was assaulted with an array of blues, creams, golds, and whites. The room seemed much more like Bonnie than the rest of the house. There were large windows off to one side open in welcome of the breeze. The long blue curtains blew inside in simulation of waves of water. Bonnie had always wanted to see the ocean.

Rebekah's eyes traveled the room, noting the wide array of flowering plants. Nature. Bonnie loved nature. There was hand crafted furniture, candles instead of lamps. A large fire place, and above it hung a large framed painting of the oceans, Nik's signature in the corner. Rebekah smiled hoping that the painting was a good sign.

"Marcel is that you?" She hadn't heard Bonnie's voice in so long that she could hardly recognize. It seemed less somehow. Hollow and without life. "I've been very bored," Bonnie sighed, "And you know when that happens I think about things that I shouldn't. Things that I should have forgotten by now."

Rebekah searched the room for her and finally caught sight of her legs dangling over the side of the couch that was facing the fireplace. Her feet were bare, toes painted red. "What kinds of things?" Rebekah asked aloud as she ran a hand over her dress and awaited an answer.

There was silence. A somber quiet that reminded Rebekah of death. Then slowly Bonnie stood and walked around the couch, giving Rebekah a better view of her. She looked much the same, though she was now more woman that girl. She had been so young when they had left. Seventeen. Naïve. Gentle. Open. There was a hardness about her now that was just around the edges.

Still the innocence was there. Or perhaps it was simply the white dress that she was wearing. "Rebekah," she greeted, "So it's true then. You're back. Are…are the others?"

The others. She didn't really care about the others Rebekah knew. She might have been pleased to see them when the time came but she was referring to Nik and Nik alone. "All of us are back," Rebekah nodded, "For good. But you don't seem surprised."

Bonnie bit her lip and looked off to the side. "I've been hearing things," she told her, "Whispers among the witches. I didn't think you would ever come back. I guess I was wrong."

"Is that why you didn't wait?" Rebekah couldn't help but asked.

"I didn't wait because you all promised you wouldn't leave in the first place," Bonnie shrugged, "You broke your promise and I broke mine." She eyed Rebekah with curiosity and something close to disdain. "Why are you here?" she asked, "Did Marcel tell you I found another blue eyed mess of a vampire that would put up with me and so your brother sent you here to commission on his behalf."

"I'm here because I wanted to see my friend," Rebekah sighed, "But clearly things have changed." Bonnie looked away from her and down at the floor. "But you're right about one thing," Rebekah pressed, "Nik wants to see you. He's opening a club. He wants you to sing."

A laugh was her response. Hard, dry, and lacking in humor. "That's rich," Bonnie stated, "I don't sing anymore. So you can tell him to fine someone else with a nice set of pipes."

Rebekah hesitated but then took a step forward. She reached out a hand but stopped as Bonnie took a step back. "We all understand that it will take some time for you to warm up to us again," she said, "But we want to be in your life in whatever way you want us to be. We're trying."

Bonnie shook her head. "I told you," she frowned, "I've heard things. Whole packs of wolves have disappeared and are trickling back into the city with a taste for blood and the ability to phase a will. More witches than ever are dabbling in dark magic. That club is not for me to sing it's for him to launder money and lure in tourist. I know what you are trying to do. You didn't come back here for me you came back for the city. You think the Bennett name will help you recruit more witches but you're not going to use me to help your strong arm your way back into the quarter."

"We would never use you Bonnie," Rebekah declared, her expression one of hurt.

"You would never leave me either, right?" Silence. Heavy and unrelenting. It would have been better if Nik had come. He had a better way with her. But with Salvatore there that was not an option.

"We had our reasons," Rebekah tried.

"I have my reasons as well," Bonnie said, "You're back here because he got what he wanted. He broke the hybrid curse. He had have his family now. His power. He can prove to the quarter he isn't just some abomination and create his army of comrades and hoods all he wants. But he can't have me. Not anymore. He let me go to get what he has now and so he has to live with that." She turned her back to her then and Rebekah knew the conversation was over. "It was nice seeing you Rebekah."

Smiling sadly Rebekah nodded and began to back out of the room. "If you change your mind Marcel knows where to find us," she whispered, "See you around, doll." Then she left closing the door behind her.

**:::**

_**New Orleans, Louisiana, 1919**_

The paint swirled around the canvas like waves. The intricate brush work depicted everything from the grains of sand on the beach, the foam at the wave's ends. Niklaus Mikaelson smiled as he felt arms wrap around him from behind, hands running down his bare chest before linking at his stomach.

He dunked the brush in hand into the water on the cup on his easel and turned, the arms loosening around him to accommodate him. He fell in love with the woman that owned those arms each time that he looked at her and this time was no different. But those green eyes that looked up at him were not always so full of adoration in return.

The first time Klaus had laid eyes on Bonnie Bennett, he knew. She had been singing in a small run down club that was just on the verge of closing. Her voice sounding sweet and yet sensual. She had been wearing a white dress, that was feathered at the bottom and the spot light had given her brown an ethereal glow. There was no question. No doubt. She would be his, he knew. He would lose himself in her, become consumed in her. He would fall in love with her again and again and he would never stop.

The thought had scared him. But still he approached her. Even knowing the power that she already had over him. Even knowing that being what she was, a witch, a servant of nature, she would likely never be able to love him, an abomination in return. He had met her initial disdain with a smile and he pursued her. He had never given up and she had melted. Day by day, little by little, hour by hours, minute by minute, softening toward him. Softened the point that she fell in love with him every time she looked at him as well.

"What do you think about your painting?" He asked, as he took his face in her hands.

"Very intricate and well-crafted," she smiled, "You have an eye for color and detail. I can honestly say that no matter where I go I will always have a wall in my home to display my Mikaelson collection."

And she had a collection. He painted for her all the time. Portraits of her. Places he had seen but she hadn't seen. Things that she inspired him to feel. To think. To learn. "Where would go that I wouldn't be there, doll?"

Bonnie grinned. "Nowhere," she answered, "So you'll have to get used to having your stuff on display all over the house."

The house they shared with his siblings was large but not attention grabbing. He planned on building her something bigger, more extravagant once he plans were finalized and he had the power that he so craved. "It's good to know that we're both in agreement that you will never leave me, love," he said.

"Well," she grinned, "I'm not all goofy over you for no reason." Bonnie stood on her toes, his bottom up shirt that she was wearing, riding up as she did so. "Now kiss me," she said, "You never make me wait this long."

He leaned down and whispered against her lips. "What kind of suitor would I be if I didn't keep a dame on her toes?" She giggled in answer and he captured her mouth with his. He kissed her slowly. Gently. Thoroughly. He smiled wider as she hummed contentedly as he pulled away.

"When will you take me to see the ocean in person like you promised?" She frowned.

"As soon as I break the curse on my head," he told, "Then wherever you want to go we will go." He couldn't deny her anything. Denying wasn't an option. She was all the light that he had ever had. His center. His anchor. Everything that he had ever wanted. And he would be more for her. When the hybrid curse was broken his power would match her power. He would be more than an abomination courting the last of the Bennett line. He would be her equal and the supernatural world would kneel to them.

"Will you promise me something now then?" Bonnie asked. At his nod she continued. "If I can't go anywhere then you can't go anywhere either."

There was something in her eyes as she looked at him. Fear. Clear and present fear. He didn't know where it had come from but he knew that he wanted to do nothing more than to quiet it. "Never," he murmured, "Wherever you are, that's where I will be. Always."

**:::**

_**New Orleans, Louisiana, 1925**_

The bar was a dilapidated hole in the wall that Damon frequented and Marcel knew very well the reason. The bartender was none of than, Katherine Pierce, a woman who was both Damon Salvatore's first love and his little brother's fiancé. There was no doubt in Marcel's mind that Damon was still sleeping with the woman. Were it not for Bonnie, he would have killed the man for his transgressions already.

Bonnie and Damon were not in love. They were two people who had found one another in moments of grief and solitude and had clung to each other for dear life. For Damon, Bonnie was his salvation, a balm for the open wound that had been left behind when Katherine had left him for his brother. She was full of light, good, kind, and loyal. A stark contrast to Katherine's brash selfishness. Like and antidote to the poison Katherine had left in his veins.

But though Bonnie was quiet in her unhappiness, Marcel knew that now that Nik was back in town she would become more vocal as the days wore on and her ties to Damon would soon be cut. Bonnie had seemed surprised to see Rebekah, and Marcel knew it was because she didn't think that Klaus would come back for her. But he had, and she hadn't waited. But Marcel knew Nik, and knew the hybrid wouldn't resent them but rather rise to the challenge.

He sat across the table from Damon and watched as the vampire downed a tumbler full of bourbon. He was only there in order to buy Rebekah some time alone with Bonnie. There was a lot of planning and infiltrating that Marcel had a hand in now that the Mikaelsons had returned, not just within the city but within Bonnie's life as well.

"I know you don't like me," Damon said, staring down into his glass, "And I know why. But you have to understand something. I love Bonnie. I do. I may stray but that doesn't mean I won't come back. Katherine, she's a bearcat. Just a dame I can't get outta my system. Maybe if I though Bonnie was all in with me, but I know she isn't. She'll leave me. I'm just waiting for it to happen."

Marcel raised an eyebrow at him. He hadn't realized that the vampire was so perceptive, least of all when it came to Bonnie. "What makes you say that?" He asked, as he signaled for the barmaid to bring them another bottle.

"When we first met she said that she didn't like me but she liked my eyes," Damon sighed, "I thought she was just being campy but…when she looks at me sometimes I can tell she doesn't really see me. She always left part of herself cut off from me. Closed off and locked away, like she was waiting for whoever had the key to it to come back and unlock it. When she saw your dame today, she seemed to look as if she had stopped waiting. So maybe this bird, whoever he is, got something to do with your little blonde bombshell, huh?"

Marcel made a noncommittal sound and shrugged. "I wouldn't know anything about that," he said.

Damon narrowed his eyes but didn't comment. "Well," he said, "Would you know anything about this hybrid fella everyone has been yapping about? Not that I got any beef with him but I get an earful about him every time I leave the house. I mean whole packs of wolves turn up missing, politicians getting compelled out of stacks of cash, and police looking the other way when bodies are popping up everywhere drained of blood. All this going on and no one has seen this guy's face. I don't know about you but I don't buy that for a second."

Marcel smirked. "Well we'll all be seeing him soon enough," he told, Damon, without giving away exactly how much he knew, "You know that club over on Bourbon Street. The one's been torn down and build back up over the last month?" At Damon's nod he continued. "Well according to gossip," he whispered, "The hybrids the one you spent the dough renovating it. Got it all fixed up and loaded with hooch. Plans on using the place as some kind of supernatural have. Lure tourist out for the slaughter, launder money, and if I'm not mistaken he's looking for a singer."

Damon's eyebrow show up. "A singer?" he frowned, "I know you wouldn't mention it unless he was thinking of Bonnie. But how do you know all of this?"

Marcel laughed as he took a sip from his own glass. "Like I said," he answered, "Folks talk and I listen. "It's a good thing Bonnie stopped singing," he commented, "Wouldn't want her mixed up with this hood, huh?"

"She never sang for me," Damon shook his head, "I've never even heard the dame hum a tune. I doubt she'd go soft for some stranger, even if he's working his way into having this city in his back pocket. And even if he approaches her and she decides to sing I'll be there to protect her."

He glanced over his shoulder as Katherine made her way into the bar for her shift. He watched her hips move in the black dress she was wearing and stood.

"I'm sure you will," Marcel said, sarcastically with a roll of his eyes, "You know unless you're distracted for any reason."

"What?" Damon asked, turning back to him, obviously not having been paying attention, "I'm going to go get us another bottle."

Marcel watched as Damon walked toward Katherine. Nik didn't need to worry about competition. There was none. His focus would need to be Bonnie because it was obvious, that that was the last thing that Damon was focused on.

**:::**

_**New Orleans, Louisiana, 1920**_

The slant of light that came in through the curtains of the room that she shared with Klaus illuminated his sleeping form on the bed. She sat on the piano bench her hair frazzled, her silk robe open, and the pages of the song she had been working on for over a month scattered on the ground at her feet. The tears that ran down her cheeks, dripped quietly into her lap, landing on her white lace nightgown. She watched Klaus as he reached out for her in his sleep. Whenever she left their bed, he always reached out for her.

She took a drag of her of her cigarette and frowned. She should have known better. Everyone had told her. Everyone had warned her. Her mother. Her Grams. Even Nik's older brother. Told her not to get attached, not to fall in love with someone of his kind. Not just because he was he was vampire, with a werewolf gene lying dormant besides. No, but because he was selfish, impulsive, power hungry, and entitled. She shouldn't have been surprised that he had decided that he would be leaving soon and hadn't told her. And as he hadn't told her, that meant she wouldn't be going with him.

She shouldn't be surprised but she was. She was because of the way that he loved her. The way that they loved each other. He existed for her, she knew that. She could see that. And yet he was breaking his promise to her. Worse than him leaving, however, was the fact that she had to hear about it from someone else. She deserved better than that.

She put out her cigarette in the crystal ashtray sitting next to her on the piano bench and moved to light another, when Klaus reached out for her again and came up with nothing but air. This time it caused him to wake and look around him.

She looked away as she set down her cigarette. If she looked at him she would break. And she could not break. She had been broken enough. Everyone left her. She had no friends outside Marcel and Klaus's siblings. No family outside of Klaus and her Grams. Her mother had left. Her father might as well had left as he was always away. Outside of them she was isolated. The other witches of the quarter were too intimidated by her power to befriend her and she didn't interact with many others. But she had been fine with the isolation. Fine as long as she had him.

"Bonnie?" He frowned as he sat up in the bed and blinked at her. He was about to ask why she had gotten out of bed but stopped when he saw the tear tracks staining her cheeks. "Sweetheart, what's wrong? Did something happen to Sheila?"

"No," she muttered, shaking her head and laughing without humor, "She's fine." She leaned forward, covering her face with her hands. She didn't want to do this. They had fought enough in the beginning. Argued enough when she had been fighting her feelings for him. They were supposed to be pass this.

"Come here," he said, throwing back the covers, "Tell me what's wrong."

She stood slowly. Her movements reluctant. She wanted to be close to him even now. There was a chance that she had heard things wrong. She owed it to him to hear the truth from him.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she looked at the painting on the far wall. The ocean. She imagined the salt water and the cool breeze as she felt Klaus run a hand down her back. "Sometimes I hate this city," she whispered, "Sometimes I wish we could just forget what we are and just go somewhere disappear. Disappear into nothing."

"Bonnie?" Her name came from his lips again, this time more concerned. He should've been concerned. She wouldn't look at him. "You can tell me," he urged, "Whatever it is you can tell me."

It was amusing. She could tell him anything. He could tell her nothing. "I heard Elijah and Rebekah talking," she said, "She said you found the doppelganger. I asked them and they said, you were leaving to break the curse."

A shadow passed over his face, but then his expression turned to one of resolve. "I am," he confessed, "We all are. I wanted to tell you but I wanted to wait until the right time."

She looked at him finally, eyes full of hurt and betrayal. "Was there ever going to be a right time to tell me that you're leaving me? Or were you planning on taking me with you?"

He closed his eyes. "I can't," he whispered, "It's dangerous and I need to make sure that you stay safe. Marcel will be here with you. You won't alone. It won't be for-" He wasn't able to finish the sentence before she stood. He stood with her, reached out to her, but she stepped away from him. His hands fell to his sides.

"Kol says that you've done this before," she accused, crossing her arms over her chest, "That's there's been other witches."

"It isn't the same thing," Klaus objected, "I've never aimed to use you. I've never wanted your power. I love you. You know this. You're hurt right now and I understand that but don't doubt me please. I couldn't take it if you doubted me."

Bonnie sniffed and walked across the room to pick up the cigarette she had abandon. She lit the tip with her powers and then took a drag. "I know you promised to never leave me and now you're leaving. I know that."

He walked up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "It won't be forever," he said, "I'll be back for you. I'm doing this for you."

"You're doing this for yourself," she sighed, "If you were thinking about me, you wouldn't be doing this at all. You would stay or you would let me come. You would make sure that you kept your promise. You would make sure that we would be together."

"And we will be," he promised, kissing the top of her head, "When I get back. I just need you to wait for me. Just a little while. There are things I have to do. Things I can't explain. But when I come home. When I come back to you, I will be able to tell you everything. I just need you to wait a little while, love. Just a little while."

Bonnie closed her eyes and bit her lip. She wanted to believe him. She did. She wanted to have faith. But things never worked out in her favor. He would go. He would pine for her for a little while and then she would be forgotten. He had already broken his promise to stay, so she didn't see him keeping his promise to return. "Okay," she murmured, taking another drag of the cigarette and exhaling smoke, "I'll wait."

She wanted to believe that she would keep the promise she had just made to him. But she knew that if she couldn't trust him any longer, than the next person she would stop trusting would be herself.

**:::**

_**New Orleans, Louisiana, 1925**_

Niklaus Mikaelson twisted a string of pearls in his hands as he stared out of his bedroom window. He looked toward the house just across the way at the large open windows. As the blue curtains blew in and out he caught glimpses of her. The love of his life. The reason behind his existence.

Almond skin. Pink lips. White dress flowing up in the breeze. It was like watching the birth of Venus. Carried up in the waves atop the sea foam.

There was a time when he didn't not have to watch from a distance. When he could watch from up close. When he could see her. Touch her. Kiss her. Hold her. A time before he had made the mistake of leaving her behind.

It was a mistake. He realized that now. In spite of his motives and justifications he had broken a promise to her. It wasn't just the leaving that had broken things nearly to beyond repair. It was the breaking of that one promise.

Together. That was what they had told one another. Everything they went through they would go through together. She was strong and capable. She could have handled the danger that came with the route he had chosen in order to accomplish the things that he desired. It was him who could not handle risking her.

She was strong but not immortal, which made her more fragile than him, weaker, and impermanent. He knew that no matter what measures he took in order to protect her, there was always that chance that he could slip.

Now, however, now that fear was no one that he had. Now that had removed the curse over his head and unlocked the secrets hidden in his blood, he had the means in which to make her immortal as well and she could even remain a witch once the process was done. She could be with him forever. Forever, that was, unless she chose someone else.

He didn't want to think that she could love another. In his mind it was only him for her, just as it had always been the same the other way around. But he knew she had a great capacity for love. That she was loyal and often gave so freely of herself. When they were together he had been so sure that he would be the last person that she ever gave herself so freely to. That he would be the final person to have an influence over her feelings and a pull over her heart. He was wrong, at least in part.

He didn't know much about her relationship with the elder Salvatore but just the fact that there was one gave him pause. Gave him reason to worry. Caused long buried insecurities to surface.

The hood wasn't good to her or so Marcel said, but there had to be a reason that she stayed. Just like there had been a reason that she had stayed with Klaus so long ago in spite of so many that told her to abandon him. In spite of the killing and arguments and selfishness. In spite of him being the very thing that broke the balance her kind fought so hard to protect. In spite of his own insecurities and fear of abandonment making him cling much harder to her than he should have.

It was amusing, in a dark way. He had been afraid she would leave him. Afraid that she would wake up one day and realize he was nothing. That she was above him. An angel bedding a monster. So afraid that he would wake up nearly the very moment that she got out of bed, to make sure that she would come back. So afraid that he made sure that at least he or one of his siblings were with her at all times. But she, she had never feared and she should have.

She had been sure that he would never lead. He held on to her to tightly for her to think otherwise. He had wrapped his entire being around. So in tuned was he to her that whenever they were close the rhythm of his heartbeat would slow and quicken to match the pace of hers at any given moment. That when he breathed in it was always to inhale her scent and when he exhaled it was always to breath out her name. There had never been a sign that he would leave but he had.

He had barely existed for five years. He had gone through the motions. Forcing himself to do what he must. Telling himself that his actions were justified. The end going was worth the means. But nothing was worth coming home to this. To her with someone else.

Someone else who was faithless and unworthy. Letting go of her was not an option. In never had been. So he watched and he waited.

He could tell as he watched his sister storm out of Bonnie's favorite room from his vantage point at the window that Bonnie had no agreed to come to the opening of the club. That she had refused to sing.

But Klaus kept watching. His blue eyes intent as Bonnie walked across the room, the curtains obscuring his view every so often. She stopped in front of the painting that hung up above the mantle. The ocean. It had been his. He eyes stayed on her as she lifted her hand touched the painted waves, a small smile causing the corners of her mouth to lift upward.

He knew then. Even with everything that had happened. Even with the pain he had caused her. Still caused her. She would come. She would sing. Which meant he had not lost her. Not yet.

_**End Notes: I really actually hate this and hate that it was so short. So I was just trying to make the ground work. I really don't like this very much but hope it gets better as I go along. I did a lot of writing and rewriting on this and it took longer than I had hoped to finish this first part. Anyway I am off to work on some last minute stuff for Klonnie week. Thanks for reading. Any feedback would be nice.**_


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